windfall | light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

[ Knocking. The roar of ammunition fire in his ears. Blasts of heat and debris sticking to his face, dust crusting in his eyes. A delirious and delicious taste, sweet red like pomegranate, like Aki's skin scraping open in his mouth.

Denji doesn't talk much about what happened that day.

Not unusual, since he doesn't really talk much about any of what transpired prior to meeting Nayuta, either. Or about how sometimes he can still sense, not even hear, but sense a phone ringing in the distance, its pull like a spiral cord that's gone taut, that's trying to make its way back home and if he follows its trail, he might just find someone familiar on the other end of the receiver.

No, he doesn't tell anyone all that, because, see, the last time he did, Kishibe had just hummed and looked at him, the kind of look Denji would get from adults whenever they caught him picking through the dumpster for his next meal: pitying. Then, he'd shook out a flask from the inside of his coat and said, "Sometimes it's better for the line to go dead, kid."

Weird response, right? It'd made Denji go silent, think a bit. And after a while, he hadn't liked that so much, so he'd changed the subject to something inoffensive, like complaining about how much Nayuta's so much better at arcade games than he is, but Kishibe had cut him short at that point to go take a call.

Naturally, Denji had followed.

It's a little sad that a man in his silver years is the only person he can confide in, but Kishibe's not a bad guy — and that's coming from someone who generally hates men. Then again, the guy doesn't show his gaunt face around these parts unless he absolutely has to, which is probably by his own design, so it helps that he's never around long enough for Denji to get sick of seeing him. Up until that conversation, his absence wouldn't have been something Denji paid notice to. It'd usually take weeks and months and Nayuta asking where the funny, drunk geezer who always sneaks her hard candy is for him to see past the everyday chaos of being Tokyo's friendly neighborhood Chainsaw Man.

But as Denji creeped closer, overhearing some words but not registering most of them, a dangerous curiosity brought him to the edge of his hiding spot. What the hell has this dude been up to?

And then he'd froze.

"So the Gun Devil's position has been compromised. Initiate a tactical retreat."

Afterward, he hadn't done anything for a solid week besides go to school, kick some devil ass and stare vacantly at a pair of eggs frying in the pan for dinner each evening. Predictably, Nayuta had rapidly gotten sick of the menu. So before he could make his eighth pair of fried eggs, she'd scaled up his back and twisted his earlobes until he begged for forgiveness.

"Stuuupid! Dummy! Get a hold of yourself!" Nayuta raged on. "No more acting weird, or else I'm putting doggy kibble in your cereal again!"

She was right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Yeah, he was dumb, but that didn't mean he had eggshells for brains. He could still do stuff in his own way.

In the following weeks, Denji spent his time hounding members of the Devil Hunter Club for all and any relevant knowledge pertaining to devils. From rumors about recent devil sightings, to insights into things like the theoretical mechanics behind how long it took for certain types of devils to die in Hell and be reborn, to mathematical equations projecting the survivability rate of fiends based on the velocity and quantity of violence…

Of course, he only understood about three-percent of anything at any given time, but one detail of interest shared by some gloomy, pig-tailed girl stood out to him. According to her, a mysterious amount of devils had been slain in the Kabukicho district, none of which had been reported by either civilian hunters or Public Safety ones.

Anyone with half their wits would be able to easily determine that this wasn't a reasonable lead, but for Denji? He could feel something trilling out to him. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Not too shabby... There are worse things to say after sex, Aki decides.]

[He can already feel that bit of skin pulling itself together, slowly healing. It'll still be raw and red by the morning but no longer open. Maybe by noon, it'll be healed. For now, he reaches up to wrap his arm around Denji, tugging him into his chest and sliding his other beneath him so he won't simply roll away.]

[His mind is too exhausted, body wiped out by how much more that had ended up becoming. He'd come in here for... What was it, again? He just woke up to his presence, like a phone call in the middle of the night, eyes snapping open on the first ring. But what had he come here for? Why did he start going at him, again?]

[Something is eating at him, and he still doesn't know what. He never knew Denji had the ability to maintain a guilty conscience. He can't remember any time that anything stuck with him. That anything that happened in the past weighed him down enough for it to be this visible. Even with the squabbles they had the year before, before all this happened... Even when they got back from Hell, Denji was the only one who seemed unchanged. Still eating anything that fell onto the floor, still cheery and blunt and unassuming. When did the kid who eats everything begin to be the one fed on from the inside out...?]

You did well.

[He strokes his hair lightly, fingering through the mess. The mess... He's such a mess right now. That devil is going to wake up and smell them and know exactly what happened. Maybe he can manage to wake up in a couple hours and hobble to the bath before she gets up.]

[He sighs and presses his nose to the crown of his head, takes in a slow breath. He smells different now. Less like the outdoors. More like the city. His voice is a mutter.]

Better than expected... I'll teach you more.

[ Microorganisms, aquatic plant forms, nano fish hatchlings. An ecosystem needs a feeding ground to be able to maintain its existence, and Denji's weakness is that he's always lived in the the lowest hutch of the food chain. Always made himself vulnerable to larger predators, people looking to use his heart as a stepping stone, his guise as a scapegoat. His ribs, a ladder up. This place has an avaricious appetite and everything about his normal life, not just the guilt from his most recent wrongs, gnaws at his heels, his wafer-thin defenses.

But for a moment, nosing his face into the side of his neck, their mingled sweat flushing out the scent of unlit diesel and industrial fumes for Denji, the smell of Aki stronger than the city's — whether he realizes it or not, he can feel safe from his troubles. From himself, and from what he's already done. From what's to come.

Throat sore from all the noise he's been making tonight, a light cough runs out from him. It's not as sickly as he sounded earlier, but in case Aki gets all up into arms about it, Denji's face lifts to briefly press his lips to the underside of his chin. ]

A'right… I like learning from you. Whatcha think about creampies next?

[ It's a joke.

Half a joke.

…Maybe a quarter of a joke. ]

But if you've got somethin' else in line, that's fine. 'm not picky.

[ His hand stretches up, rubbing along at the center of Aki's brow, that, when isn't occupied by a tense crease, bears the barrelled burden of something worse. He doesn't want to think about Gun, or the piece of flesh Aki swallowed earlier without consulting him, but it's obvious what's on his mind as his thumb repeatedly smooths over the space. Again, his expression wavers, like he's going blue in the face from the effort of keeping his mouth shut when he isn't used to it. ]

[...Does Denji know he basically just creampied him? Maybe it's not really enough to fully leak out, but still. Aki's pretty sure he could creampie him. Maybe if they went two rounds? ...He'll think about that much later.]

[But his pressure against the center of his brow is, at once, stressful and relaxing. The constant kneading feels good but Aki is vaguely aware there's something beneath the action, some reason that he's doing this. The same as the sex, as crawling into bed with him. He's compensating. And for what? Denji is as quick to roll over and show his belly as any other bottom-feeder, so what would he compensate for that isn't his lack of a love life?]

[Eyes slipping open, he stares down at him. His expression like he's holding his breath below constant waves smashing into him. Mouth clenched tight and pressure on his forehead. Hell, his forehead looks more wrinkled than Aki's.]

Don't look at me like...

[He trails off, frowning. Then reaches for him, arms sliding down, hands searching for his hips. He tries to drag him on top of himself, laying flat on his back to give Denji the space to lay on his body, sink his weight onto him and feel the blood coarsing through his veins, pumped by his heart. Doesn't he feel that? He's sick of the way Denji looks at him like he'll vanish, like he needs to steal one last look. Wrapping his arms around his back, he attempts to hold him in place, frowning down at him before setting his head back down. The shit he has to put up with.]

[ Ear to his chest, Denji hears it: Thump, murmurs that important artery. Thump. Thump. And like this, Aki says enough. Says what he needs to in a way that an idiot like Denji can't mistranslate. Didn't he taste it earlier, too? That warm blood traveling where it needs to go, making a sudden pit stop, snagged and glimmering between his jaws. Which had been okay, he thinks. A bit of Aki's life force for him to borrow, to hold inside of him until that also goes away one day.

…Augh, this is depressing. He just had great sex! So why is it that he can't get his own head screwed straight?

Gaze scrunched close, he buries his face between his pecs, and pulls him in just as closely, arms fastened as tight around Aki's waist as a jammed seat belt trying to keep someone from going flying through the windshield. Feeling the waves again, but trying hard not to get dragged under. ]

You said you'd come to understand me, whatever happens.

[ His husky voice trickles out, tight and crackling around the edges. A sound not unlike wood snapping under the heat of a fire. ]

I wanna understand you, too. She used to tell me that all this would feel better and easier, the more you know the other person. [ Makima. At the time, it'd been advice regarding intimacy and getting closer to someone. But maybe it'll help with these other, more complicated emotions. With saving him from a different kind of hell, or with letting go of him — whichever of the two comes first. ] So teach me that first. And then the creampies can come next.

[Connection, then creampies. At least his priorities are in order for once.]

[Perhaps foolishly, Aki thinks there isn't much to him to understand. He's always been an honest person, to a fault in some cases. He doesn't spare words to spare feelings, usually has a stick up his ass. Denji has seen him at his best and at his worst. Has seen him drunk on the floor and standing over a dozen devil corpses. What is it about him that he doesn't understand yet? Are they that different from one another that he's so alien in comparison? Maybe so - considering how alien Denji feels in comparison to himself.]

Fine. But sleep, before any of that.

[And he'll let him stay on his chest, if he wants, smushed between his pecs that have grown more defined, muscles sharper, body stronger. The only real change outwardly is that his exterior has grown hard and solid, no longer punctured by small wounds and scars leftover. He'd be lying if he said he preferred what it was like before, aching muscles and weary bones... But at least that was normal. At least that was human.]

[He wakes up at some point to the sound of a dog barking outside, snapping at something that passed by its vision at the wrong moment. The apartment is still dark but a glance at the clock beneath the TV tells him it's just after 5. His thighs feel sticky and painful and cramped. Reaching down, he shoves at Denji to push him off if need be, then pushes himself to his knees on the bare floor so he can snag the sheets out from below him. He takes that with him to the bathroom, closing the door behind hismelf and turning on the shower.]

[ Sleep usually takes him quick and clean as a kind kill, a skewer sweeping through his frontal cortex and every waking thought in the way of his slumber. Just not tonight. Outside of that morning tread back home and his brief meet-up with Yoshida, the hours of his day have already been depleted by recovering from his illness and resting up. Sure, his "rest" was more like a fevered half-consciousness, Denji constantly shifting and tangoing with his bed sheets, but it's all the same. Falling asleep like this won't be simple.

Unfortunately, there isn't anything else to do, but to try. Whether it's because he's that tired or because he's making an effort not to move too far from him, he stays situated atop Aki as time wheels forward. Denji's face turned out sideways, his breathing comfortable and constantly rolling, the warmth from the other hybrid's chest caressing his cheek. Not awake, not asleep, not thinking about anything in particular — aside, of course, from a passing moment he considers teething at one of his nipples, but that'd make him mad, so he doesn't — that's how Denji spends the next few hours.

Eventually, his consciousness does begin to converge on that familiarly blank slate that comes with actual sleep, but as swiftly as he'd touched the surface of that well, he's removed from it — shoved from it, really. Feeling his head gently slide, then land on what could only be the futon's pillow, his eyes squint open just as a chill films over his skin. He crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing against his goosebumps as he watches Aki retreat into the bathroom, taking all the sheets with him. ]

Aki, it's cold…

[ Denji, having crawled after him on his hands and knees, whines at him through the door, his voice trying to reach him over the cascade of the shower head. ]

[The sound of Denji's whiny voice somehow makes it through the spray of the shower and Aki pauses, frowning. It's not that cold, is it? Maybe he only thinks that because he's under the heat of the water. Setting the nozzle down, he moves over to the door and pulls it open, pushing the sheets out of the way with it as he stares down at him, body dripping wet.]

You want to wash up? [The whole point was to clean up before the devil could smell it on them and attack Aki again, so maybe spraying Denji down will help with that. He motions for him to come in.] Just keep it down. I don't want to deal with that kid.

[ Door open, a burst of humidity and soap breathes into his face, the pleasant combination all but beckoning him to run headlong inside. What Denji does is close enough: He blankly stares upward, like a dog caught with its snout halfway nosed under the door gap, then boosts himself to his feet, wedging his way past with a double tap at Aki's waist to get him to make room.

Invitation accepted — yeah, he wants to wash up. The less grimy he feels, the less likely he'll have to explain all the nitty-gritty of what they've been up to. ]

Give it a few more days. [ He reaches out to adjust the water's temperature. He kinda likes it when the heat stings at first. ] You'll warm up to her, just like ya did me.

[ Except that took months of cohabiting, at least. And even after this long (or short, depending on how you look at it) knowing each other, they still regularly butt heads. But Denji's optimistic. ]

You weren't outright attacking me.

[But enough about that. It's too early for that kind of thing. Sliding aside to allow Denji in, he shuts the door once he's fiddling with the tap and squats down to sit on the stool again, motioning Denji over to join him. On the floor, his lap... He doesn't really mind right now. Sat down, his leg injury on the inside of his thigh is more obvious, but overnight it's sealed up around halfway, looking more like a slice than a bite. He picks up the soap.]

Sit back. [Sudsing his hands, he reaches out to begin running them over Denji's body.]

[ It's too early for this kind of thing, yet he keeps cluelessly jabbering on, not a hint of drowsiness in his voice. He's too wired. Doesn't even acknowledge the hands cleaning off his sides. ]

She's got way too many issues to name, [ Denji continues, settling in on top of one of Aki's knees, his own knee bouncing like jelly on a moving platter. His movements run into the leg he'd his mark on every so often, until he realizes what he's doing, and he noticeably adjusts his position to turn toward Aki to avoid irritating the wound. No matter how much it's shrunk. ]

But you had your reasons back then, too, didn'tcha? [ He poaches a puff of foam with his finger, blowing it into Aki's face. ] That time I kicked your ass after you kicked mine?

[He's so active for this early. Aki remembers him as someone sleepy and slow to start in the morning, crawling out of bed and wandering in a daze from the bathroom to the table... Did he just not sleep much last night? His eyes dart down to watch him knock against his thigh until he pulls away, then settles his foot flat to give him a steady spot to perch.]

Don't remind me. [If anything, those kicks had only solidified his dislike of Denji. It was hard to get much worse from where he was to start with, even after he found out he was partially a devil.] You were a punk who got dropped in my lap with no warning, of course I couldn't stand you. [His hands pause, suddenly, looking at their situation right now. A punk, in his lap. But at least he got a warning this time. He resumes running them down his arms, then to his chest to slide over his skin.] But you're feeding her bad habits. At least I put my foot down with you.

Edited 2024-04-24 02:59 (UTC)

[ The soapy water, Aki's palms — both things are so warm that, when he isn't being touched by either, he can feel the air making his skin rise all the more acutely, tracing down his body. Drop past the angular seams in his skin, the swell of muscle in his chest, the bunch of his belly from sitting nearly curled in his lap. Clearly, Denji's gotten stronger in the time Aki's been away, but he still shivers like he's the same scraggly cadaver that arrived at Aki's front door with only his newly provided uniform hanging loose down his form. His arms stretch half-up, opening himself to more of the cleaning. ]

She has good habits! Sometimes! You've seen her walk and feed the dogs.

[ He really didn't sleep much, but ordinarily that'd just make someone even drowsier and slow-to-react when they're up. But, probably, Denji's energy can be chalked up to the fact that he's been waiting for Aki to wake up, just to be able to talk to him like this. Not necessarily about Nayuta, but the feeling of bantering again without any devil concerns fogging his brain — it's fun. It's like how they used to be. ]

…It's a pain in the ass to eat someone, you know. Takes up all the space in the fridge. I don't wanna do anything that'll make her turn out — [ Like Makima. ] Well, in a bad way.

[Aki has given a middling amount of thought to the fact that Denji ate Makima. He hasn't asked for any specifics, sat in silent shock back when he explained the plan he had concocted to defeat her, and never since has he attempted to broach it. Him doing so here... For a moment, it honestly sounds like it would be a threat, something he might hold over the devil. "You better be careful, or I'll do what I did to your former self!" or something like that. But just as it's hard to imagine Denji actually eating an entire person such as Makima, it's hard for him to really imagine him putting his foot down when it matters.]

Why did you go to Kabukicho, the day before?

[When he saw him on TV, when he went running after him. At that time, he had said something about the devil, that she was probably nearby. And at that time, Aki hadn't been thinking about her whatsoever, hadn't cared about any of that while Denji fretted over her, called her later and checked in. Maybe he'd had a passing thought that the role felt reversed, like he was calling to ask for permission to stay out rather than being the one to grant permission, but otherwise he'd been too distracted by everything else. But if they're going to talk about her, he may as well bring up something he had unconsciously assumed.]

[He wraps his arm around Denji's back, settling it on his opposite hip. Studies him carefully, the spray of warm water still running over their backs.]

Did she goad you into it?

[ Aside from the arm that's slunk around Aki's shoulders, Denji moves very little. His eyes tarry in what vacant space remains between their legs, lips pursed; the shame-ridden look of someone weighing the pros and cons of snitching out a close friend. In hindsight, he shouldn't have brought her name up this early, but he'd held a sliver of hope that maybe Aki would be in good enough spirits to allow the topic without completely shutting him down… It's a little funny how they don't talk about Makima that much, her name, what she did, and how her actions plunged their lives farther than even bedrock could reach. Beyond hell, toward some greater unknown. Denji thinks about her all the time, particularly when he's bringing up Nayuta — what she could do, where she could take him.

The trajectory's never good, but now what happens is predicated on what Denji does. How do you protect a kid without trampling all over them? His experience is limited to just one of those things. ]

It was Nayuta's idea to get off at Shinjuku Station and play around there. [ He only looks up to watch his fingers part through Aki's hair, twisting against the strands and softly wringing out thin streams of water along his shoulders. ] Just kinda see where the day took us, I guess.

[ And it was Nayuta's idea to go to the arcade, to have western food close by the entrance to the district. Dragging him closer and closer to the closed-off area. That could have been by coincidence, though, and he's telling Aki this, hoping he won't weaponize the information against Nayuta or him. He probably deserves to have it turned against him, but it's still not something he wants to deal with. ]

But, y'know, whatever happened, she was right in the end, wasn't she? We took care of the devil that Public Safety couldn't.

[He could say something snippy about how Denji shouldn't have skipped school, but it rings hollow to his own ears to even think it. He's been pushing Denji to go to school, sure, but he skipped classes dozens of times as a child. Aki sits still as he draws his fingers through his hair, not trying to dislodge him or stop him from the motion.]

...They would have killed it eventually. [Probably. How bad off can they be right now? Just because Makima is gone, it's not like they're falling apart at the seams, right?]

You said being this - Chainsaw Man thing, it was just to get attention, and get laid. [Unsuccessfully given half the city seems to think he's a devil and the rest think he's a hero. He hasn't seen anyone eager to actively bone him due to either point.] Do you feel differently now?

[ He remembers what Aki was setting out to prove with all this — that Denji doesn't need to live an irregular life to get what he wants. Normal wants can be attained through normal means, and now that he knows what it's like to have someone pay attention to him, to seat him on their lap and rinse the grit behind his ears for him, to change out his wet towel when he's sick…

Denji pales. The thought makes his stomach gurgle and groan, like the organ's shrunken a thousand sizes down. Maybe the things he wants haven't fully been achieved at this moment in time, but it is true that Aki's shown him that those things are closer to the touch than he realized. And that he doesn't need a hand soaked in serrated steel and blood to take grasp of it. He knows. He knows that's true now. ]

But what if…

[ Without warning, the hand in Aki's hair tightens. ]

What if there's something else? That only Chainsaw Man can do?

[Denji is definitely stronger than he was a year ago. His fingers clench in his hair and Aki feels his lips twitch, gently wincing at the pain. Not enough to shove him off, however, as his arm stays settled around him, staring up at him as he seems to try and refuse what he's saying. He can almost hear the indegestion from those words.]

Haven't you already done enough?

[He's the reason most of the foes they dealt with are dead. The Doll Devil, Makima... Hell, even Gun was somewhat killed by him, but at that point he was so weak it was more like licking the plate clean. Still, there's been a lot that Denji has done that no one else could. He can't imagine anyone else who could have killed Gun in that situation. Not to mention Makima.]

You're just a kid. A kid with a devil inside - but you're a kid. [It's pithy to say this when, at his age, Aki would have recoiled at such words. But maybe Denji could understand that, and see that he's trying to tell him something important.] You've never had a normal life. So you should start on it now.

[ He barely recoils, but Denji still feels the slightest strain away at his fingertips, that alone cause enough to swiftly frighten the vice from his grip. It's a little ridiculous — there's a swollen imprint of his teeth scabbing over on Aki's thigh. Now, he's being careful?

Denji doesn't understand it himself, brushing softly at the spot he'd pulled too hard against Aki's scalp.

But during sex, it's different. The pleasure balances the pain, something sweet to chase away the bitterness their bodies soak up on a daily basis, like a used rag. It goes down good, better than how it feels to go about his day when all he has to worry about is getting school on time. When there are no corpses piling up, no sirens to herald his arrival, no one saying the magic words — Save me, Chainsaw Man — that's what doesn't feel normal. That's what feels strange to him. Off-putting. Like coming home to an open door when you're pretty sure you locked it when you left; what monsters hide inside a normal life? He's not sure he's ready to find out. Not without… ]

In a normal life, you aren't here anymore. You woulda stayed dead when 'Denji' killed you. But… because of 'Chainsaw Man,' I get to see you again.

[ And because of Chainsaw Man, he can save Aki someday. ]

[...Right. No matter what, it all comes back to saving people. He can say it's for whatever he thinks it is, but in the end, it's about Denji feeling useful in some way. And if Aki finds him useful, isn't that the clearest sign of victory for him? The one authority figure in his life that's still around right now. If he's here to check off what Denji is doing as "good," that should be good enough. That should prove he's on the right track. But now Aki is telling him not to do the thing he wants to do. And how fair is that? Aki isn't his authority figure anymore. Hell, all he ever did was hold his leash, yank him back when he got a little too nippy at people - and even then, he's still barking up a storm. Since when did he ever do anything for him? His first few months under surveillance, all he could think about were all the things he never got a chance to do.]

...You didn't kill me.

[This is kind of semantics. Because Gun killed him. And Denji killed Gun. ...Or, was it "Chainsaw Man" that killed Gun? He doesn't know. Whatever.]

I would have been dead by the end of this year anyway. If it didn't happen the way it did, something else would have killed me.

[He shifts him slightly on his knee, trying to get him to look at him directly.]

Then what are you going to do when I'm gone? You'll be satisfied with this moment, right now?

[ The fiend behind the door may not have been the person he'd grown used to seeing scold Power for dumping all her veggies in the burnables bin, but as Denji lifts his chin, he still sees an echo of him there in Aki's face. That shadow who'd grinned at him like a kid relieved his friend could come out to play, and then said his name.

Hadn't that been Aki, too?

Whether he shakes his head in rejection of the notion that he hadn't killed him, that maybe Aki couldn't have lived and died a different way, or in dislike of the questions he's faced with, that's for Aki to interpret. ]

I dunno, I, I don't — think I'd be unsatisfied with this.

[ It's his typical selfish way of thinking. ]

But it's like comparin' one moment with having a million of them. Isn't it obvious which is better? And when you're gone — I dunno about that, either. There'd be nothin' left to do but just… miss you, I guess.

[With Denji so close to him, he can feel the vibration of his body every time he speaks, the sound waves in the air and the breath from his lungs as he tells Aki there would be nothing left for him to do once Aki is gone. If Power were still here, he wants to ask, would he feel differently? What about Makima?]

[But a part of him rejects the idea of hearing Denji's responses to those questions. It shouldn't matter. It's not the point.]

You used to go so crazy, talking about your dreams, and your desires.

[He still remembers when he was screaming about a dream battle when he picked him up that one time. Has listened to him fantasize about touching boobs, seeing a real woman naked. Having sex. All those shallow, vapid dreams. They were shallow and vapid, but over time, they changed, too, didn't they? Doesn't he have new dreams now? And can't they be anything but throwing himself in harm's way?]

I can't see you moping around just because I'm not here. That devil is here, and you've got to finish school, and...

[He trails off. Doesn't plant any ideas about what Denji will do after high school. It's a weirdly nebulous idea, to even imagine him standing there with a degree. Who would go with him? That devil? Kishibe? ...Probably not Kishibe.]

...Just for once, I wish you cared about something long-term. Something that will matter years from now. Something you can build toward, and be proud of.

[It feels too much like he's lecturing himself. And because of that, he knows it's a shallow thing for him to say. If someone said that to him at Denji's age, he would have been furious. Even if his goal was short-sighted, it was all he cared about for so long. Being told to ditch it in favor of something as bland and vague as a normal life would be an insult. Because why would he, after all he'd been through, ever want anything like that? He only now has the benefit of hindsight. But even with it... What would he have changed?]

[He sighs. Leans his head down to drop it on Denji's shoulder.]

But I'm the last person who should tell you that. [At least he's aware enough to admit it.]

[ Everything he speaks about has Denji feeling like the sun is setting into the pits of his stomach, cooling, leaving him frigid in the darkness; he keeps a hand clasped hard at Aki's neck like he's trying to draw heat back into his fingertips. Keep warm through the night using a flame that flickers at any singular movement. It's useless, so useless. That's what Aki's been telling him, what he's repeated to him continuously, and what he's continued to ignore: Aki's honest wish — he's been hounding for it, waiting for a sign of something else that he's seeking out besides a life of servitude to the government, of fetching the other pieces of Gun to self-assemble his own demise, and now Denji's got it. And, now, Denji doesn't want it.

At the hotel, Denji admitted that he cared about Aki. So is he saying, essentially, he doesn't want to be one of those long-term things? Or that he can't be? Can't be something that matters, someone that stays. He wants to understand him. He's trying so badly to. ]

…I guess you're the only guy who will tell me that stuff. [ The tip of his nose brushes close against the shell of his ear, past the long bristles of his damp hair, feigning that it's close enough. It's not. ] When you were gone, that was another thing I missed. You getting mad at us. Tellin' me off.

[ Losing that again… Yes, he can see it. He lived it, obviously, so he knows what a life without Aki will look like, even though it's the last thing he wants to imagine. An idea he's been denying this whole time, but he knows the truth. It's just another absence to survive. And if his plans to save him don't pan out, which is something he has to seriously consider, then —

His eyes shut as he breathes in, sniffing along the coast of his hairline long and ragged, like he's trying to extract another part of Aki to keep for himself. But, at this point, they both smell of the same detergent. ]

Remember what you said back at the hotel. You're gonna be the one to find me next time. We made a promise. So if I do what you want me to and make it big, you have to come back to see how well I'm doing. You can't forget.

[...Right. He's supposed to be the one finding Denji next time. He had said it partially to coax him down, to try and convince him of something he's still not sure he will accept, even after Aki is gone. But for now he nods, leaning against Denji when he pulls in close to take in his scent. It's a strange feeling - but he gets it. Because he wants to remember this smell, too.]

I won't.

[Even if it was a promise he made without thinking he could accomplish it, even if he knows he might eventually lose himself the more of Gun he consumes... He's sure he won't forget that promise. He raises his head and shuts off the water, briefly pushing Denji's hair aside like he's trying to fix it, keep it a little bit neater. An impossible goal, so instead he leans in and presses a brief kiss to his temple.]

Come on. Let's get these sheets in the wash. [He motions for him to get up. His knee hurts from balancing him.]

[ He looks faintly disappointed when his eyes reopen, his face slid into a tilt and bottom lip pushed up — an expression a child would make, as if he'd been expecting something else. Rubbing a hand over the still-warm spot he'd pressed his lips to, Denji stares at him before grabbing Aki's cheeks with both hands, nails pressing into the taper of hair that disappears into his jaw, and yanking him down again for a firm, but horribly brief, kiss. Once that's settled, then he unsaddles from Aki's lap. ]

I'm movin', I'm movin'.

[ The towel he swipes to pat his face dry doesn't really keep him from dripping all over place outside the bath, little drops of water joining the other stains collaging their sheets as he shakes his hair into its usual disarray. Used to doing laundry on his own by now, he barely muffles a yawn as everything's thrown inside and he gets the machine spinning. Hopefully it doesn't need more than one cycle, but they'll just have to deal with that as it comes…

He peeks his head out to make sure Nayuta's still asleep — and it looks like it, by how her door's shut. With a look over his shoulder, he asks Aki: ] You want me to run out and grab your clothes?

[Of course. Denji gets an awkward-closed-mouth kiss in return as Aki makes a slighly annoyed sound until he finally gets up. He dries off as Denji deals with the laundry and glances over his shoulder when he looks outside to see that the devil is still in the bedroom. Good, he thinks.]

Yeah. In my bag. [A small travel bag he was given with a few changes of clothes. It's made it very apparent his stay here is intended to be short.] ...Never mind, I'll get them. [Changing his mind, he wraps the towel around himself and motions for Denji to step aside, heading to the bag. He doesn't want Denji digging through his things, actually. He'll probably be weird about his underwear or something.]

[His voice low, he asks:] When does she get up?

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